


Era of Starfall

by Sissadora



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sissadora/pseuds/Sissadora
Summary: This is a collection of drabbles from the D&D campaign (set in my homebrew world, Epios) I'm running for my friends, told from the perspectives of the NPCs.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter covers a fairly traumatic death of an NPC who was tasked to guide the main characters to a city through a magical desert.

The halfling withdrew into his tent and slid the flap closed behind him. Awaiting him was his comfortable, surprisingly large traveling room hidden inside the very nondescript tent.

This tent had been worth every copper to him in his travels. The extradimensionally large space gave him some time and space to get away from the strangers he had to spend so much time with for the sake of a good paycheck. The space, comfortably furnished with intricately woven rugs he'd brought with him time and time again, was inviting and cozily lit with lamps. His low desk, stacked with a selection of papers including the latest letter from Cuibirnon, placed in the middle, and a bed at the back, made this almost a home. 

Kessanev shook out his cloak and put away his goggles. Bits of sand scattered everywhere as he shook off his clothing and finally sat down on his bed.

This part of the desert always made him nervous. If he'd been with any less competent people, he would not have slept in his tent but under the stars, more aware of his surroundings. Many potentially dangerous things roamed the desert, and thanks to the sound-dampening effect, travelers were vulnerable in the darkness. But his day had been long, and all he wanted was a bit of quality sleep. They were another day's travel from the capital, and this time he might actually have the time to go up to the city and go spend some time with his husband.

The halfling gave a glance at the latest letter from 

He was asleep as soon as he laid down and tugged the blanket over himself.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A muffled yelp and a scream, muted by the Voiceless Desert, somehow woke Kessanev from his slumber.

He shot upright in the bed, hand reflexively going out to grab the longbow he'd brought with him. He blinked against the low light of the lamps and wrenched the blanket from over him.

The people outside--they were in danger--

Adrenaline surged through him as he pulled on a shirt, quickly taking stock of his quiver. He had 10 arrows ready to go, and hopefully he wouldn't have to use all of them. He pulled on his pants, belting the quiver. Now, a strangely twisted, but still earth-shaking, thunderclap sounded from outside of his tent.

Gods-damn-it-all, the barefooted Kessanev thought to himself and sprinted out of the tent. 

In the low-burning campfire light, the halfling could see Erinon and Vandergrift looking at something over his shoulder. He skidded to a stop and turned to follow their gazes over his low tent.

Just behind the tent, a vague form - no, Kessanev realized with horror, a swarm of forms - swirled in the air. Dozens, if not hundreds, of small, pale bits and pieces crisscrossed each other in unpredictable patterns. Tharan swung down his axe, cracking into a larger object and splitting it clean in half. An unmoving form dropped into the sand within the light's reach and a detached realization came to Kessanev; this apparition was made of sun-bleached skulls and bones. A shiver ran up his spine.

The halfling knew he had to do something. Kessanev raised his bow, trying to aim for one of the larger skulls currently threatening Bailey. His arrow bounced off a passing bone, and he cursed again, although the muting effect of the Voiceless Desert swallowed his words. Erinon ran past the fire over to him, taking a place protectively besides him. Some 15 feet away, Vandergrift raised his hands. Lightning flashed, blinding Kessanev and leaving little brilliant dots dancing across his vision. The air was electrified. A cloud of fine sand particles swirled around the combatants just beyond the tent, kicked up by Tharan and Bailey. 

Kessanev settled on his heels, watching the whirlwind of bones closely. It looked like Tharan and Bailey had it under control, striking and retreating, trying to smash as many bones as they could, perhaps in hopes of wearing this entity down.

It was just then as the two seemed to have smashed several of the large skulls in the swarm that the creature began to move.

Faster than Kessanev could react, the cloud of bones surged over the tent, floated over the campfire, and surrounded both him and Erinon. The halfling briefly locked eyes with the dark-skinned gnome next to him, seeing the horror he felt reflected on the kind woman's face. He gasped for breath.

A sharp piece of bone grazed his cheek at a great speed and sent him flailing backwards. Sickening crunch he felt rather than heard was followed by a blooming pain in his chest. World around him tilted, and he was falling. Just before he hit the ground, a small swarm of bones struck him under the chin, burrowing into his neck, and all went dark.


	2. Cuibirnon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow-up of Kessanev's death, as experienced by his husband. Sad things ahoy!

A fellow student - an elven student several semesters his junior - appeared at Cuibirnon's elbow, quietly rousing him from his research in the Academy library. He was buried elbow deep in old papers about transmutation, notes and calculations scrawled in several different notebooks and rolled up parchments. Judging by the color of liquid in a small glass globe on the edge of the desk, he'd been lost in his thoughts for several hours now, and there was an inescapable ache in his neck as he straightened up to look at Aliar in the eye with an arched eyebrow. Aliar was one of the students who didn't seem to shun him for his status in the Academy, and they'd grown close in the past few weeks.

"The south Gatekeepers call for you, Cuibirnon," she whispered, her hands on her hips. Her brown eyes flicked across the desk briefly as she took in some of his work. "Said you should make your way there at your convenience."

A fond warmth spread across his chest as Cuibirnon smiled up at her. "Ah, thanks," he whispered back and gave her an incline of his head. It had been a while since he'd seen his husband, and a small part of him had begun to worry. 

Aliar patted his shoulder, nodded and departed towards the upper floors, her robes swishing in her wake. She walked past rows upon rows of similar tables, most all occupied by students of different years. The large library room was mostly quiet except for the hum-like rustling of quills against paper and the turning of pages, broken by an additional cough or creak of a chair. 

The wizard pushed his chair back and stood up, grabbing the time-globe to shove it into his bag and scooting the research papers towards the center of the desk. A singular gesture from him created a spreading, faintly shimmering globe of force to obscure his work that would keep anyone else than him from accessing the notes. 

Making his way out of the library and towards the main exit, he ignored his fellow students and Academy staff. It had been more than 5 weeks since he'd seen Kessanev last, and it was high time the two had an evening together. 

The streets of Al-Tamesma were busy, midday ebb and flow of people filling in the narrow streets leading to the southern gate by the Commons marketplace.

\-------------------

Some 45 minutes later Cuibirnon stepped through the door into the shade of the gatehouse on the edge of the marketplace, blinking his eyes to adjust to the low light of the room. The half-glass door closed behind him with a soft thud. 

To his surprise, the room, with its waiting chairs and counter where one of the Gatekeepers would keep watch for things passing towards the departure platform was empty. He glanced around. 

"Hello?" he called out softly, his sandal heels clicking against the polished marble floor and echoing off the magically lit walls. A moment later there was rusting beyond a door behind the counter, and a turquoise uniform clad attendant appeared. It was a younger water genasi man who Cuibirnon had seen several times in the past. What was his name, again? Yeriz?

The attendant's face was serious, and suddenly Cuibirnon's stomach curled in on itself. His throat was too dry to speak. Was Kessanev hurt? Was that why he had run late? Why hadn't they sent him directly to the gate's infirmary in an adjacent building if that was the case?

"Please, follow me," the uniformed Gatekeeper said and gestured towards the back room.

It couldn't be.

His stomach churned. Numbly, Cuibirnon forced one step closer. Another step. He managed to push himself forward by some measure of automatism embedded in his movements. 

The steps that took him into the back hallway and a small room beyond, stepping past a solemn Gatekeeper, were the longest he had taken in his life. 

In that room was singular chair, and a low table. Upon it, a heavy, white shroud was draped over a prone, short, humanoid form. Behind the table stood a dwarven woman - Noha, a distant corner of his mind reminded him - in a copy of the water genasi Gatekeeper's form, except hers was black. 

A sob bubbled up, and Cuibirnon leaned heavily against the doorframe. 

"I'm so sorry, Cuibirnon." 

Heartbreaking confirmation unlocked his tears. He half-walked, half-stumbled to the covered form of his beloved, reaching for the sheet. Just before he could lift it, Noha pressed her hand over his, halting his movements.

"He... Was ambushed in the desert. It doesn't look good," she said in a low tone. An obvious warning, even through his tears.

Cuibirnon slumped onto the chair, and the dwarven woman stepped around the table to stand by his side. Noha's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

The heartbroken wizard allowed himself to weep.


End file.
